Oh Canadia!
by Chester Who
Summary: One young North Carolinian sets off an international incident in the Federation. Holla. Rated PG-13 cuz Raw is rated TV-14.
1. Flight of the Canadadian Geese

A crowd of WWF Superstars sat gathered at a local bar, chewing the fat about their matches, out-of-character lives, how many pixels they had in the latest WWF video game, and whatever else happened to cross their minds.  
  
"....So I says to the guy, I says, what is this, the nWo?"  
  
A few men burst out laughing, mostly the ones that had consumed the most alcohol. The rest were left wondering if the joke went over their heads or if the teller was too pickled to tell it right.  
  
"I've had root canals that are funnier than that, junior," the Living Legend, Larger than Life, Undisputed WWF Champion, and a Partridge in a Pear Tree, Chris Jericho said.  
  
"Ah, you Canadadian guys wouldn't know a good joke if it bit you on the ass," a very inebriated Jeff Hardy quipped.  
  
"Canadian."  
  
"Thats what I said. Canadadian."  
  
"Think that hair dye finally got into his brain," Edge commented.  
  
"Whats wrong with you guys?" Jeff asked quite innocently, "You're Canadadians. You come from Canadia. You should be proud of it!"  
  
"And this road scholar goes to the hotel with Lita every night. What's that all aboot, can anyone tell me?!" Test ranted.  
  
"Um, Jeff, baby, maybe you've had one too many to drink," Trish said, trying to contain her laughter.  
  
"Wait, say that again? I think I'm missing something," Matt Hardy interrupted.  
  
"Canadadian." Jeff said slowly. "Noun. One who comes from Canadia."  
  
"Sounds right to me," Matt concluded with a hiccup.  
  
"Hick," Christian fake coughed.  
  
"I heard that, ya French wannabe!" Jeff suddenly exploded.  
  
"Hey! Canadi--CANADA is its own damn country!"  
  
"Totally! I mean, calling Canadians French wannabes is like calling Horsemen Country the reekazoid capitol of the world!"  
  
"Don't talk shit about Horsemen Country, you horse-face!"  
  
"Uh, Jeff, I thought he was the horse-face."  
  
"You can't call me that! I have immunity! Neener neener neeeeneeeerrrr..."  
  
"I mean, North Carolina. The people there make Stephanie McMahon look halfway decent."  
  
"We all know you're banging her like a screen door in a hurricane, Jericho, so WILL YOU PLEASE......SHUT THE...SHUT UP!"  
  
"But North Carolina!" Test continued, "Just aboot the only good thing that came from North Carolina was..."  
  
"Petey Pablo," Lance Storm finished. The odd looks he recieved went unnoticed, as he was also plastered.  
  
By now the small dispute had become a drunken shouting match, and was drawing the attention of most of the WWF roster. Those peacekeeping pub patrons, the APA, had to restrain the Hardy Boyz as the petty insults escalated into challenges being laid out.  
  
"What in the hell is going on here?" HHH demanded, standing up and commanding the attention of everyone who was still sober enough to pay attention.  
  
"Ah shaddap, ya Greenwhich punk! You're practically one of them!"  
  
"One of who?"  
  
"The Canadadians!"  
  
"Yeah! The Game is practically one of us!" Christian agreed, slinging his arm over HHH's shoulder.  
  
"I mean, anyone who talks that funny has to be a Canadadian. 'I've not been suspended from anything'....'I've not seen Chyna's Playboy spread'...Dude, the word is 'I HAVEN'T.' It's a con-- a con-- a contraption of HAVE and NOT."  
  
"Listen you piece of Dirty South trash-uh..., don't get in my face for being the only educated wrestler in this damn bar-uh..."  
  
"Damn," Faarooq exclaimed, "Now you went and got him started with the '-uh'."  
  
"Yeah," Edge added, "Now before he whips out a sledgehammer, let's either forget this whole misunderstanding, or..."  
  
"Or you Canadadians put your less-than-the-U.S.-dollar money where your mouths are!"  
  
"Hey, you want some of us, you got it!"  
  
"Yeah! When we're done with you, we're donna dye your hair like the Maple Leaf, Hardy!"  
  
"What?"  
  
"I said: When we're done with you, we're gon--"  
  
"WHAT?"  
  
"Didn't you hea--"  
  
"WHAT?!"  
  
Presently, the crowd of Superstars parted like the Red Sea to reveal none other than the Texas Rattlesnake, Stone Cold Steve Austin. The Bionic Redneck paced around the room for a while, keeping every eye in the room that wasn't already glazed over on him.  
  
"Look atcha," he finally spit out. "Oh Canada, Oh Canada, WHAT? Yer pathetic! Got chips on your shoulders, all of ya. WHAT? I damn near got my neck broken by a Canadian sumbitch*! WHAT?!"  
  
And so it was decided. The Canadian WWF Superstars challenged any and all American WWF Superstars to a Street Fight at that very same bar in one week's time. But of course, since the Americans greatly outnumbered the Canadians, they would have to select a proud few to represent them all.  
  
* - May he rest in peace. 


	2. NEXT!

The next morning, auditions for Team America were conducted aboard the WWF tour bus. The Hardy Boyz had to organize business by themselves after the APA had refused to help them. Something about not being able to stand former Tag Team Champions who couldn't hold their liquor.  
  
"Name."  
  
"C'mon dude."  
  
"Name."  
  
"You know my name."  
  
"NAME."  
  
"Matt, we all know his name already."  
  
"NAME!"  
  
"ROB. VAN. DAM." Everyone aboard the bus said in unison, mechanically pointing to their heads 3 times.  
  
"Oh. Right."  
  
"Are you sure you're not hung over?" Lita asked Matt.  
  
"In order to be hung over I'd have to stop drinking," he reminded her, nursing a Corona as he took down RVD's name on his clipboard.  
  
"Hometown," Jeff asked.  
  
"Battle Creek."  
  
"That in Canadia?"  
  
"'Scuse me?"  
  
"NEXT!"  
  
"Whatever man."  
  
"Name."  
  
"Big Boss Man."  
  
"Hometown."  
  
"Cobb County."  
  
"That in--"  
  
"Georgia."  
  
"See Jeff? This isn't so hard," Matt said, elbowing his younger brother before addressing the Boss Man. "Prior experience?"  
  
"Jailhouse Match against the Mountie."  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"Who?"  
  
"Summerslam '91. Why back in those days, a Jailhouse Match was as big as those damn BLT matches, or whatever the hell you young bucks jump around and break your backs in..."  
  
"Oh yeah, I remember that show! That was the night I scored with that blonde girl who sat behind me in homeroom."  
  
"Hey...I remember that night too! I scored with that blonde girl who sat...two seats behind me in homeroom!"  
  
"Dude, that was you?"  
  
"Dude." The Hardy brothers toasted each other with their respective beverages as Lita turned absolutely green.  
  
"AHEM." The Boss Man cleared his throat impatiently.  
  
"What? Oh, uh, congratulations, you made the team. NEXT!" Matt got up to go to the bathroom, and Jeff took his place as chief interrogator.  
  
"Name."  
  
"Buh Buh Ray Dudley."  
  
"Hometown."  
  
"Dudleyville."  
  
"That in Canadia?"  
  
"Uh. Well, um... You know, er... D-VON! WHERE IS DUDLEYVILLE, ANYWAY?"  
  
"Testify."  
  
"Oh good answer."  
  
"Testify."  
  
"Come on, this is serious business! I need to know!"  
  
"Testify."  
  
At this point, Buh Buh pinpointed the origin of the voice as a boom box in the back of the bus.  
  
"Where the hell is D-Von?!" The Night-Mayor of Dudleyville cried, looking around. "And where the hell is Stacy?!"  
  
Jeff stifled a laugh.  
  
"MOTHER FUCKER!" Buh Buh exclaimed as realization dawned on him and he stalked off in search of his half-brother and former mistress.  
  
"Name," Jeff continued, undaunted.  
  
"Kurt Angle."  
  
"Hometown."  
  
"Pittsburgh, PA, U.S.A., baby! WOO!"  
  
Jeff cocked his head to one side. "Riiiiight. Prior experience?"  
  
Kurt rolled his eyes. "Former Olympic Gold Medalist, former Euro-Continental Champion, former 2-time WWF Champion, former Employee of the Month at Taco Bell, former poster boy for Visine Brand Artificial Tears..."  
  
By the time Kurt was done rambling on, Jeff had fallen fast asleep, his head resting in Lita's lap.  
  
"Uh, sorry Kurt, but you know..."  
  
"Excuse me? I didn't make the team? Who died and made you boss anyway, Lita?"  
  
"Well don't get me wrong, Kurt, you're a great athlete, but um...you know how you are...and well, we don't really want to represent the American Superstars like that..."  
  
"Know how I am? I have no idea what you're talking about."  
  
"We all know you didn't like kissing Steph that time," Lita finally blurted out. A chuckle or two could be heard around the bus.  
  
"WHAT! I AM NOT GAY! JUST BECAUSE I GET HOT SWEATY MEN ON THE GROUND AND MAKE THEM TAP OUT DOESN'T MEAN I--Oh God. Oh God."  
  
"Next!"  
  
"What?"  
  
"Name."  
  
"Stone Cold Steve Austin."  
  
"Hometown."  
  
"Victoria, Texas."  
  
"That in--"  
  
"What?"  
  
"Sorry, it says here I'm required to ask. Prior experience?"  
  
"1990 through 1993, opened up a can of whoopass on some Canadians. 1993 through 1997, opened up another can of whoopass on some more Canadians. 1997 to present, full-time Canadian ass kicker. WHAT?!"  
  
"You're in." 


End file.
